How Not To Make A Snowflake
by MooseOnARoof
Summary: Wilson is given the job of making Christmas decorations for the Oncology Ward and it doesn't really go well. Inspired by a rant of mine about how awful left-handed scissors are. H/W friendship. One shot.


_A/N Inspired by a rant I had on LJ the other day about left-handed scissors and their uselessness. A couple of nice folk suggested it would make a good plot. So here it is. _**_Wilson is given the job of making Christmas decorations for the Oncology Ward and it doesn't really go well. _**

_Disclaimer: Don't own them. Never have and never will :(  
_

* * *

This was getting ridiculous.

Wilson scrunched up another decrepit looking paper snowflake and tossed it in the trash can, which was now overflowing with paper and card. This was not what he had in mind when he offered Cuddy his services to help with the Christmas decorations in the Oncology Ward. He thought there was a slim possibility of having to dress up as Santa or don a red nose. He would have be fine with either of those tasks.

But no, he had been saddled with making the snowflakes to stick on the walls. The worst job possible for a man who had little to no artistic talent.

He wasn't even sure how to make a snowflake. One of the nurses had mentioned something about folding paper and cutting triangles but her pretty face was too distracting. His wandering eye had cost him dear as he had only grasped about half of the words she had said.

He grasped another piece of thin letter paper from his draw, cut a square, folded it in half and then in half again.

_Okay. Good start_. _You've managed to fold a piece of paper. Bravo._

He scratched his head, bamboozled as to what to do next with the triangular piece of paper he had in front of him. This was when the nurse's voice had become a distant fuzzy noise, masked over by another voice enquiring into how good she would look with her top off.

_Oh what the hell. If in doubt just fold._

He picked up the triangle and held it up to the sky, twisting it around in his hands, trying to fathom what the hell to fold.

This wasn't working.

He tossed the triangle on the desk and turned to his computer. He was sure the IT techs wouldn't flag up an unassuming look at an D.I.Y art website. A quick search yielded a quicker result.

Wilson carefully followed the instructions on the screen and found himself with a tiny spear-like slip of paper.

'Now you get to cut out your pattern!' the screen flashed in bright orange letters.

He grabbed the scissors and began snipping away at the edges of the paper. This simple task took all of his concentration as the scissors he had were possibly the most pathetic pair in the world. He had told Cuddy he would be fine with a right-handed pair but she had spouted some rubbish about liability if he had hurt himself. Something about the hospital being liable for not providing the right equipment for his needs. He protested. She ignored him. He relented.

It took eight snips with the scissors to cut the first bit of paper out. Only five more bits to go.

_This is going to be a long afternoon._

He was on to his second last bit when his concentration was disturbed by House barging his way into the office.

"Thank you for knocking." Wilson didn't dare take his eyes off the paper. He was too close to cutting his first ever snowflake. However lame it looked, it was still an achievement.

House surveyed the office. The entire left corner was cluttered with balls of paper while Wilson's desk was an incoherent mess of pencils and paper. "I thought this was your day off. What the hell is all this?" He waved his cane in the general direction of the chaos.

"It's a favour for Cuddy." Only one more bit to go.

"She asked you to make your office a mess? I could've done that for you. Would have saved you coming in at all today."

Wilson smiled. "I have to make snowflakes for the Oncology ward." He grimaced as the scissors declined to cut through the paper. "It's just taking a little longer than I thought it would."

House watched Wilson fidget and struggle, tongue poking out the side of his mouth. "It would help if you weren't using the bluntest pair of scissors in the world." House moved to Wilson's side of the desk. "Give me those."

"No!" Wilson swung his arms away from House. He wasn't going to let that limping twerp take away his moment of artistic glory.

"Wilson. You're gonna be here all day at this rate. Give me the damn things." House grabbed at the Wilson's hands, hoping to wrestle the implement from his grasp.

Determined not to let go, Wilson dragged himself onto his knees and crawled under the desk, pulling House down with him. "Let go."

"No." House yanked hard.

"Let go!" Wilson pulled back.

"Give me the scissors." House pooled his energy into one last heave. He stumbled back and found himself in possession of the scissors.

"You ass." Wilson staggered out from underneath the desk and held his thumb aloft. "You cut me!"

House observed the small drops of blood running down Wilson's thumb. "You cut yourself. This wouldn't have happened if you had just given me the things in the first place. I assume Jimmy doesn't like share his toys."

Wilson stuck his thumb in his mouth to stem the flow. "Chut up. Thish really hurtsh."

"Oh stop being such a baby. Just put a band aid on it." House grabbed a piece of paper and began cutting away. "Seriously, these are awful." He gave a look of disgust before tossing the offending item into overburdened trash can.

Wilson took his thumb from his mouth and gave it a squeeze. He then wrapped it in a tissue to keep the blood from dripping on his pristinely kept carpet. "Go away. You've done enough damage."

House took a bow. "I'm glad to have been of service." With a smile, House limped down the corridor leaving Wilson clutching his bleeding thumb.

* * *

**3 Days Later**

"Do we have to watch this again?" Wilson groaned as House flicked on The L Word for the the second time in as many hours. "It's the same episode!"

"I want to see if I missed anything the first time round." House lips curled into a smile and he tucked the T.V remote under his ass.

"Fine. Good night House." Wilson went to push himself up from the couch but stopped in his tracks as a painful throb echoed through his hand. He shook his hand, hoping somehow the pain would shake itself away.

"Is your thumb _still _hurting?"

Wilson nodded.

"Gimme a look." House waved Wilson over. "Okay. That should not be green."

"What?" Wilson stared at the blister on his thumb. Sure enough, it was green. How did he not notice that?

"I thought you'd been putting it in salt water."

Wilson wrinkled his nose. "I have."

"Well it's obviously not working." House squinted at the sickly green digit. "That's some radioactive puss going on in there." He gave the blister a gentle poke.

"Ow!" Wilson pulled his hand away.

"You have the pain threshold of a six-year old." House stood up and wandered into the kitchen. "Where's your sewing kit?"

"I don't have a sew-" Wilson began to protest.

"You have a sewing kit. Where is it?"

There was no point in protesting. "Blue container under the sink."

All Wilson could hear was clanging of metal and shifting of goods. He had no idea what House was up to but he knew it would inevitably involve pain. His thumb was pulsating and the skin around his blister was an angry shade of red.

"Give me your thumb." House held out his hand.

"Why? What are you going to do?" Wilson kept his hand back, wary of his friend's request.

House twirled a needle in his other hand. "I'm gonna pop it."

"Like hell you are!" Wilson guffawed.

House sighed. "The quicker the puss is removed, the less chance of the infection spreading. You said the salt water wasn't working. Time to take other measures."

"You're enjoying this aren't you." Wilson growled. He limply held his thumb out against his own wishes.

"Not at all." House clasped Wilson's thumb between his fingers and prodded the grim looking blister with the point of the needle.

Wilson bit his lip and scowled before stamping his foot down on the floor. The pain was excruciating as House gently squeezed the now popped blister. Wilson could feel the warm liquid run down his thumb.

House used a tissue to dab away the fluid. "Wow. It looks a bit like Jell-O." He threw away the damp tissue and led Wilson, thumb first, into the kitchen. "You need to clean it, keep it clean and keep it dry. You'll have to tell Cuddy unless you want to pass some sexy infection on to your bald-headed friends."

Wilson could only muster a stifled groan as the warm water from the sink ran over his hand.

* * *

The next morning Wilson called in sick. He saw little point in risking going into work with an infection. Cuddy understood and gave him an extra day on top of that just to be safe.

His thumb was still sore, but now it only glowed red instead of the sickly green hue of the evening before.

He flicked on the television and made himself comfortable. A day off without being on call was an unusual situation for Wilson to find himself in. So he settled down for a relaxing day watching shoddy programmes and eating potato chips.

It was around 2 in the afternoon when his peace was disturbed.

A violent knock on the door made Wilson jump in his seat. He got up, padded to the door and put his eye up to the peep hole. There was nobody there. He cautiously opened the door and discovered a box at his feet.

There was no address and no delivery service mark upon it. Curious, he picked up the box and brought it back into the apartment, closing the door behind him. He shook the box, making the items inside jangle.

He carefully unfurled the flaps on top and found a note tucked on the inside.

_'Practice with some of these. House' _

He pushed the last flap over and smiled as he saw the contents.

Scissors. The box was full of scissors.

_Bastard._

* * *

___A/N The whole green finger thing was actually based on my own experience of nearly having a septic finger. Chronic nail biting + playing in the mud and climbing trees = one radioactive looking finger and subsequent trip to the doctors__. Fun times :D_


End file.
